What If
by EchoEveMorrow
Summary: What if Robin wasn't the one that came into the room after The First left Faith alone? What if Buffy had doubled back? What if neither could leave it that way? What if? Takes place in "Touched". Faith's POV.
1. Preface

"Deep down," he continued, still preaching away. "You always wanted Buffy to accept you, to love you even. Why do you think that is?"

_That_ pissed me off. "You a shrink now?" I inquired maliciously. I had only barely come to terms with my feelings for Buffy and here this asshole was trying to tell me the way he knew I felt all along. I had to fight the urge to deck him right there.

He began to walk the floor. "You keep looking for love and acceptance from these people; these 'friends' of yours, but you're never gonna find it. The truth is, nobody will ever love you …."

That was enough to break my heart. I didn't let a single emotion show, but inside I felt even more empty and ill at ease with myself than I had in years. See, I'd known that I was incapable of being loved, but to have this man, the one I'd once considered my surrogate father, confirm what my low self-esteem had already convinced me was true … well, that was almost unbearable.

"Not the way I love you."

Fuck off. "Get out." Much better choice, the former would have definitely let him know that what he was saying was getting to me. This was not the Mayor I had known and almost loved - this was the thing that created the evil he turned out to be.

"They'll forever see you as a killer," he stated blatantly. It was obvious that my lack of reaction was beginning to vex him, his argument was getting weaker and more rushed.

"I said 'get out'." But it was still getting harder to appear unruffled.

"I'll always be with you, Firecracker," he stated more calmly, "in everything you do." Then he departed in a much too showy fashion for my taste, leaving behind only a faint green glow and my growing inner turmoil.


	2. Chapter One

**Thank you for your kind reviews, they make me smile … on the inside. :P And thanks to my girlfriend for kicking the ass of my writer's block. :D Three cheers!**

I stood there a few seconds, struggling to steady my breathing and regain control of my thoughts, before realizing that I was trembling an appalling amount and was in desperate need of a nicotine fix.

'Fucker got me all wound up.' I thought as I made my way down the stairs and out the front door so I could indulge in my latest bad habit.

Being in prison gave me time to do many things … like pick up smoking. Although I'm sure it's a habit that I could've lived without starting, it's much better than the habits I used to have. Another thing prison gave me was a chance to establish my affection for Buffy, or at least come to terms with it. I suppose it would be unfair of me to blame her for my downward spiral, but she is the only reason I can come up with for how drastically I changed in my first few months in Sunnyhell. I guess it was mostly I couldn't handle the fact that I had feelings that would _never_ be returned. Whatever, ya know? Yeah, I still love Buffy, probably always will, but I've accepted that it'll never go farther than that and, with the way things are now, I've got my work cut out for me just trying to get her to _like_ me again … or finally.

As I finished my third cigarette, I realized that I was terrible at thought-control and should probably go back inside to get some shut-eye because seven o' clock would roll around a lot faster than I wished it would. However, I seemed to be having trouble leaving my spot on the railing. I guess part of me was hoping that Buffy would show up out of the blue, part was wishing she wouldn't have left in the first place, most of me was wishing I never would've came back here and the rest of me was just tired – tired of being angry, of being sad, of regretting, and just physically drained. See? Terrible thought-control skills.

After another fifteen minutes of seriously unnecessary thinking, I slowly trudged up the stairs, each one getting me one step closer to the inviting bed that belonged to Buffy Summers. It felt almost wrong to me – walking up _her_ stairs, going into _her_ room, leading _her_ Scoobies.

'Buffy should be here.' I thought involuntarily.

Once I reached the top of the stairs, I become conscious of how tired I really was. It had been an eventful day to say the least and it seemed as though they were going to get even more action-packed the longer I was here.

'This place is gonna kill me.' I thought almost sardonically.

I'd like to say that I didn't press my face against the pillow and inhale as much Buffy scented fabric as my lungs would hold as soon as I'd stripped off my jeans and practically collapsed into bed, but that would go against this new honesty thing I've got going.

I hate that even her scent can still affect me.

I hate even more that it put me almost immediately to sleep.

As soon as I'd closed my eyes I knew the dream would come, the same one I'd had just about every night for almost three years.

The dream where _I'm at the Bronze, flirting with the bartender, (trying to score some free drinks) and I turn around to find that a crowd has gathered. I walk almost cautiously up to the onslaught of horny onlookers, being careful not to draw too much attention from the spectacle I'm sure to find. Then suddenly, the crowd parts and I see her; Buffy Anne Summers, who's __**sexy**__ dancing could compete with even me. She motions with her right index finger for me to come join her, to become a part of the writhing mass on the dance floor – and I do not disappoint. I saunter over in my classic Faith-like manner and press myself flush against her body, completely invading her personal space. She doesn't seem to mind as we begin a steady rhythm that quickly becomes us grinding against each other to the rapid beat. We stare intently into each other's eyes for what seems like forever – song after song – as I try to decipher the look she's been giving me. The grinding doesn't slow and neither does the beat of each song, and I can feel her breath hit my face as it seems to be getting harder for her to breathe. With every breath that hits my face, one more drop of my self-control trickles away and soon I find my eyes moving slowly from her beautiful green ones, to her pouty lips and back up again, catching hers doing the same thing. And every night it's the same, by the time I move in to kiss her and meet no resistance … _I wake up.

This time, when I wake up, it's to the sound of the window opening.

My eyes fly open and I leap out of bed, ready to attack the fuck out of whatever has decided to invade when sleep was so imperative, but once my eyes adjust and my brain fully registers that I am now awake, I find myself staring into the same eyes that bore into mine only moments ago – in my dreams.


	3. Chapter Two

**My favorite sergeant offered me rewards of an unknown variety if I wrote this chapter, so . . . taadaa?**

"B?" I mumbled.

She didn't seem surprised to see me, as if she was looking specifically for me, she seemed more . . . actually, I can't describe the look she was wearing. It looked almost like . . . desire? _'That can't be. It's the light! It must be the light. Or lack of. Stupid moon. Didn't anyone teach you to be brighter when the girl of your dreams has some crazy look on her face that you gotta decipher quickly?'_ When I decided to stop blaming the moon (because, honestly, I could see every detail of her beautiful face) I concluded I must still be dreaming. Her look of an undetermined nature changed to one of confusion when I started, what I thought was inconspicuously, pinching myself. I gave her a sheepish grin and discontinued my pinching, it was clear this was not a dream. Her confusion quickly dissipated as her eyes began to slowly roam my body. I resisted the urge to resume pinching when I realized I wasn't wearing pants.

"Um . . ." I began, but quickly decided my best course of action was to get away as fast as possible. What I failed to think over was how diving into the bed face first and quickly throwing the blanket over me (missing half of my body, I might add) was accomplishing that.

I heard soft giggles emanating from her side of the room and decided to peek out from underneath the blanket. Once enough of my face was exposed that I could see hers, the giggles turned into raucous laughter.

"The hell's so fuckin' funny, B?" I demanded, trying to appear annoyed and not start giggling myself.

"You . . . *giggle* you just . . . *snort* . . ." she started, never quite able to finish her thought.

"Out with it!" I demanded, springing up from the bed.

"Faith . . . pants."

"Damn it!" I cursed as I ripped the blanket from the bed, wrapping it around my waist. "What are you doing here, B?"

Now she looked a little nervous. It seemed as though she had not been expecting that question. After about a minute of utter silence and some awkward glances, I decided to give her a break and attempt to lighten the mood with the first thing that came to mind. However, me being the big 'lets-think-about-the-most-depressing-thing-we-can-ALL-THE-FUCKING-TIME' kinda girl, what came out of my mouth should be no surprise to anyone: the most depressing subject possible. Figures.

"Listen, B, about before . . . with the potentials—I didn't want it to go down like that. And I'm sorry. All I wanted to do was come to Sunnydale, help you out, show you I've changed and . . . and maybe even be friends?" As I finished virtually pouring my heart out I looked down at the floor and began internally chastising myself for letting my fuckin' mouth open. _'You are such an idiot, ya know? First opportunity to open your mouth and you're pretty much tellin' the girl you love her.'_ I can almost imagine how comical I must have looked staring at the floor, silently cursing myself out, but it couldn't have been better than the expression on my face when I finally looked up to see Buffy less than a foot away from me. _'Am I breathing? . . . Shit! Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. You can do this, Faith. Not like you put so much effort into it before. . . Isn't this shit supposed to come NATURALLY?'_

"Faith . . ." she exhaled in a breathy whisper, that breath tickling my face and getting me all kinds of excited.

"Uhhh . . . yeah, what? Yes . . ." I decided a throat clearing was in order before I made an ass of myself. "Huh?" I mumbled out. Too late. It was a vigorous internal battle to focus on NOT staring at her lips while struggling to kick the ass of my libido because she was _clearly_ staring at mine.

She smiled a cute, little Buffy-smile and got even closer. "I didn't come back for any apologies."

I shook my head, somehow knowing this moment was very important. What I said next would kind of make or break whatever seemed to be happening between us. "What _did_ you come back for, Buffy?" I whispered and inched, ever so slightly, closer to her face. The use of her full name was meant to demonstrate how seriously I was taking this.

"Pretty much this . . ." she muttered almost inaudibly and closed the distance between us, giving me the sweetest kiss of my life.

**Oh, no. I'm not done. I'm simply making you wait. Because I'm eeeeevil! Mwahahaha! But … if you cater to my ego a little, I'll post the next part a little faster than I posted this part. :D**


	4. Chapter Three

**I've gone through high school graduation, two moderately large breakups, a major move, I got a job, and I was without a computer for some time. I'm so sorry. None of those are adequate excuses, but they're all I have. So. Here's what you've all been waiting for… [insert drum roll]**

It took only a few seconds for my brain to go from extreme confusion to extreme excitement. Buffy Summers was kissing me. _ME._

I moved my lips with hers, our kiss growing more passionate by the second, and trailed my hands – which had been hanging dumbly by my sides, having dropped the sheet long ago,- up to her hips. I played with the hem of her shirt, trying to gather the confidence to lift it the inch it would take to gain access to her perfect skin.

It seemed she wasn't having any of our moderately torpid pace because she bit roughly on my lip and grabbed a fistful of my hair. '_Thanks for the encouragement, B._' I thought as I ran my fingers up her shirt to lightly caress her rib cage. She moaned softly and ran her tongue across my lip, meeting no resistance from my already opening mouth.

The second her tongue touched mine, I'd had enough waiting. I ripped her jacket off her shoulders, throwing it to some unknown part of her room (her shirt following close behind) and tried not to trip over the pile of sheet pooled by my ankles as I walked her over to the bed.

'_This is really happening._' I mused incredulously. '_I'm about to have sex with Buffy- the woman I've been in love with the last five years._' My hands began trembling as I reached for the button of her jeans while she tugged at mine with impatient determination. She turned us around and threw me onto the bed, jerking my pants off as soon as I'd hit the mattress.

I sat up, leaning on my elbows, and watched her as she stood there for a moment, looking at me in my small t-shirt and boy shorts as she slowly unzipped and lowered her pants, revealing sexy, red lingerie. I pushed myself up, ran a shaky hand through my tangled, dark locks, and pulled her back down to me.

She landed softly astride my hips, looking a titillating mixture of startled and aroused. I smirked, licked my lips, and forcefully grabbed the back of her head, reconnecting our lips, swollen from kisses.

As our kisses swiftly escalated in ardor, Buffy's whimpers grew louder and the pace of her hips rocking down onto mine quickened. My short-trimmed nails raked lightly up her spine to unclasp her bra. She smiled into the kiss, tore her lips from mine, and leaned back onto her knees, letting the bra fall gently from her shoulders and onto my stomach.

She was so much more beautiful than I had ever imagined. All the years of fantasies combined didn't do her unbelievable body justice. I tried to calm my breathing as I trailed my hands from where they'd been resting on her inner thighs to her perfect breasts. They were the exact size to fit perfectly in my hands with very light pink nipples that I could feel hardening further in my palms.

I leaned up, taking her right breast in my mouth. She sighed loudly and buckled forward, one of my hands remaining on her breast. Our mouths crashed together and I bit her lip hard as my free hand travelled rapidly down her abdomen to play with the waistband of her underwear. She broke from our heated kiss long enough to whisper a quiet, lust-infused "Please." A violent shiver briefly racked my body as I slipped my hand past the last resistance. She was so wet.

I gasped into her mouth and she shuddered above me. I began with slow, light strokes over her clit as she kissed and nipped at my neck, trying to muffle her emphatic moans and whimpers. She dug her nails, which were a fraction longer than mine, into my shoulder as I commenced a harder and faster pace on her clit. When her whimpers faded to hard panting, I presumed she was close. I wanted to give her the best orgasm I could. If this was all I'd ever get, I'd make it worth our while. But, being me, I had to make this special in more ways than a wicked orgasm.

"Buffy?" I whispered as I moved the middle finger of my other hand to her opening, never discontinuing the movements on her clit. She withdrew her face from my neck and looked at me with dark, lidded eyes, her mouth partly open, breath coming in shallow bursts. "I love you." I stated firmly, my voice wavering only slightly.

She never took her eyes off my face, her expression changing from pure lust, to one mixed with adoration. She kissed me gentler this time, only a few soft pecks before pulling away with "We wouldn't be here if I didn't know that, Faith. I've always known. Now shut up and fuck me. For once… I **DON'T** want to talk." That was good enough for me. I smiled wider than I had in years and leaned forward to suck on Buffy's neck. She gasped again and I pushed my finger inside her. She stiffened and groaned. I knew it wouldn't be long.

I began a pace with my finger mirroring the one on her clit. Her hips were moving with me and the whimpering was back, louder this time. I added another finger and she groaned my name. We continued like this, my fingers covered in pure Buffy, working as hard and fast as they could to make her come. She bit down hard on my shoulder as her hips lost rhythm, her thrusting hard and frantic. I sucked harder yet on her neck and curled my fingers inside her. She pushed her hips up one last time before collapsing in a pile of limbs on top of me.

I gave her a minute before I could no longer ignore the throbbing in my wrist. "B? Baby?" Unintelligible mumbles emanated from my shoulder region. "B, you're breakin' my hand." She groaned (not in the good way) and rolled off of me. I smiled at her sleepy, satisfied expression and pulled her close to me. Kissing her forehead, I whispered again that I loved her. She smiled a dopey smile that only a half asleep Buffy could.

I covered our bodies with the tangled mess of blanket at the foot of her bed and whispered a soft good night as I felt myself drifting off as well. It had truly been a long day and night. I felt her shift, squinting my eyes open one last time to see her looking at me, eyes barely open as well, as she mumbled, "We should've done this years ago."


End file.
